


tidings of comfort and joy

by writtenrevolution



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Hallmark AU, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Past Relationship(s), Somebody has a kid, and not my best writing either, but its a hallmark AU so what else did u expect from me, decidedly underdeveloped plot, holiday fic!, mount vernon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21714196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenrevolution/pseuds/writtenrevolution
Summary: Alexander is a cynical lawyer in New York, who just got dumped on his ass by his girlfriend. After accidentally revealing his not so special holiday plans, Washington, his boss, all but demands Alexander come home with him to celebrate the holiday with Washington’s family in Mount Vernon. But Washington’s family is made up of a lot more than blood relatives. It’s made up of people that Alexander hasn’t thought of in a long time. People that take the form of his ex boyfriend, Thomas Jefferson.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Catherine "Kitty" Livingston (Previous), Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson, George Washington/Martha Washington, Thomas Jefferson/Martha Wayles Jefferson (Previous)
Comments: 92
Kudos: 257





	1. Seriously, fuck him

**Author's Note:**

> I'm warning you all right now: this fic is mediocre at best. Writing it was the hardest thing I've done for some reason, and I think that's evident in the plot. That being said, it's cute and fluffy and sweet so you might like it. 
> 
> Updates everyday from now until Christmas because I'm a slut for cliches. (which this fic is full of).
> 
> Title comes from, "god rest ye merry gentlemen," naturally.
> 
> Without further ado,

“This isn’t working.”

Alexander doesn’t bother looking up from his laptop, “What, the wifi?”

He hears, more than sees, Kitty’s sigh. He quickly saves the document he’s working on and looks up at her. Her face is pulled into a frown, and her gaze isn’t looking at him. Her blonde hair is tied back by the nape of her neck, and she’s fiddling with the lid of her coffee. 

“No, Alexander.” Kitty replies, finally looking up at him. She straightens her back and raises her chin, “Us. We aren’t working anymore.”

“What?” Is his immediate reply, “How exactly are we not working anymore?”

“Alexander, we’re not in love. We haven’t been in love for a long time. You’re more focused on your work- your career than me.”

“My job is important, Kat.” He replies, words almost harsh. They’ve had this talk a million times, though, and he’s tired of defending himself to her, “I’m lucky to be where I am, and I’ve worked too hard to give anything less than one hundred percent. I’ve sacrificed too much to give it up.”

“God, Alexander, I know it’s important work. I know you care about your job, but you should care about me too. I know you’ve worked hard, and I know you’re making a difference, but there are lawyers out there that have families. There are lawyers out there that can make time for the people they claim to care about-”

“I do care about you!” He interjects immediately. 

“But I need more.” She’s pleading with him now, her bright blue eyes open and tearful, “I need more than the scraps of attention you throw my way when you’re feeling generous. I need to be able to talk to you, without worrying about if you’ll send me away because you’re working. And I want a family, Alexander, and you have to make time for a family.”

“Kat,”

“I need more, Alex.” She says, voice growing harder, “I need more, and if you can’t give it to me, then I don’t see a future with us. So tell me, can you give me what I need? Can you prioritize us over your work for once?”

Alexander remains silent. He knows he can’t give her the answer she so desperately wants. And, she’s right. Things aren’t like they used to be. They aren’t in love anymore, but in the routine of it. He meets with her, kisses her, tells her he loves her, but it’s just routine. There’s no emotion behind it. 

And his job comes first. He had scrimped and he had saved and he had worked his ass off through college. And he was lucky to be where he was. He was lucky Washington had saw him not as he was, but as he could be, and taken him under his wing. He was lucky to have a cushy job and a corner office with a view. He couldn’t give that up. He wouldn’t give that up. 

“That’s what I thought.” Kitty says, and she genuinely looks sad. “Take care of yourself, Alexander. We might not be in love, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

She leaves after that, her blonde hair swishing in it’s ponytail, and Alexander can only watch her walk away. His heart is full, not off hurt but of regret. Regret that he wasn’t the man she deserved. Regret that he couldn’t change and be that man. 

Alexander looks back down at his laptop, and picks up where he left off. 

Work the next day is the same as usual. He’s just finished up a pretty big trial, so a majority of the stress on his shoulders has diminished. Alexander’s at his desk, typing up a report for Washington on the Leek’s trial, when a knock on the door makes him pause. 

“Yes?”

The door opens and John peeks in. “You got a minute?”

Alexander pushes back, a couple inches, from his desk and rolls his eyes. “Depends on what you have to say.”

The door opens further and John steps inside. “What if it’s a thinly veiled apology and a totally not subtle I told you so?”

“In that case, I’m totally jam packed at the moment.”

John snorts, “For what it’s worth, I’ve been telling you that you could do better.”

Alexander raises an eyebrow, “You do realize she dumped me?”

“Yeah and that obviously proves that she was batshit insane.”

Alex can’t help but snort in reply. “She’d beg to differ.”

“Mm, doesn’t matter. My opinion is the only one that matters.”

“Is there a reason you’re hiding out in my office?” Alexander asks, eyes narrowing a fraction. 

“Burr’s making his rounds.”

And, okay, that is self explanatory then. His email pings and Alex lazily scrolls to the top to view the new message. 

From: gwash@washingtonco.gmail.com  
Alexander,  
Come see me when you have a moment.  
George Washington  
Washington & Adams Law

“Washington needs to see me.” Alexander says, with a soft exhale, “Feel free to hang out here, though.”

“Oooo, are you in trouble?” John asks, wagging his eyebrows. 

“Doubtful,” He quips back, “Probably just wants to talk about the Leeks trial.”

“Good luck then,” John says, and Alex watches him put his feet up on the desk and pulls out his phone. 

It’s good to know that Kitty or no Kitty, some things stay the same. 

Alexander manages to avoid Burr on the trip to Washington’s office, and he thanks the Gods above for the small victory. They probably feel like shit for making his girlfriend dump him two weeks before Christmas, but that’s not much of his concern anymore. He’s an adult, he’ll get over it. 

Alex knocks twice on Washington’s door, hears his gruff, “Come in,” and pushes open the door. 

“You wanted to see me, Sir?”

Washington looks up from his papers, giving Alexander a pleased smile. “Yes, my boy, come in.”

He shuts the door behind him, and then gracefully lowers himself into the seat across from his boss. 

“I just wanted to check in and see how the Leeks trial paperwork was coming along?”

And that easily could have been asked over email. Alexander narrows his eyes, “It’s fine, Sir. I’ve almost finished it.”

Washington nods, leaning back in his chair and looking at Alex. After a moment, he sighs. “To be honest, Alexander, that wasn’t the real reason I wanted to speak to you.”

He can barely surprise his smile. “I figured, Sir.”

“I actually wanted to remind you about the firm’s holiday work policy.”

And, honestly, he should have seen this coming. 

“What about it?”

Washington sighs, “You know you’re not allowed to work on the scheduled break days. I trust you’ve made other holiday plans to keep you from working? And, before you ask, working at home is still work.”

Alexander manages a polite smile, even when he wants to stalk out and not return. Fuck the firm and their stupid ‘non-denomenation no work on holiday policy’. Sorry that some of them had better things to do than participate in a capitalist holiday based around the idea of a fat man in a red suit. 

“I have plans involving netflix and take out from down the street, Sir.”

Washington’s brow furrows, “Don’t you have plans with your family? Or your girlfriend, Catharine was it?”

“Kitty and I broke up, Sir.”

Washington’s frown grows more prominent. “You shouldn’t spend the holidays by yourself, Alexander.”

“I’m sure I’ll survive.”

“You should come to Mount Vernon for the week, my boy. Martha is going all out with the Christmas Eve party this year, and it would be nice to have another face around the house. Martha would, without a doubt, appreciate your company.”

“While I appreciate the-”

“Plus it would give us time to talk.” Washington interrupts him, “As I’m sure you know, Adams is considering retiring. It would be nice to talk about your future with the firm.”

And, wait a minute, was Washington bribing him to attend Christmas with him in exchange for a promotion? Was that even legal? Or ethical?

But still. It was the offer of moving his way even further up the ladder. He’d worked hard, and this might be the opportunity to kick open the only other door that stood between him and making partner. And it wouldn’t be awful, he supposes. He had heard of the Washingtons’ Christmas Eve party, and he knows it’s raved about in the Virginian social circles. 

Fuck. 

“I would be honoured to spend the holidays with your family, Sir.”

Washington claps his hands and grins, “Excellent to hear, my boy. You can come out on the twentieth? Martha usually has an itinerary of things to do in the days leading up to the party. You can obviously stay at the house, we have plenty of rooms.”

“That sounds lovely.”

Washington’s still smiling, his eyes looking as if he’s off in thought. A moment later he blinks and says, “I have a friend coming to stay with us, as well. He just got back from overseas. He’s quite versed in politics, so I’m sure you two will get along.”

Alexander offers a pleased smile in return, “I look forward to meeting him.” He says, “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, no, you’re dismissed. I’ll tell Martha that you’ll be joining us.”

Alexander nods as he stands. “I’ll see you then, Sir.”

He closes the door behind him, leaning up against it and letting out a deep sigh. 

A week in Virginia with his boss? How could it go wrong?

“Alexander! There you are, do you have a moment to talk about the break room?” Aaron Burr appears out of nowhere beside him and Alexander lets out a god-awful, bewildered laugh. 

Seriously, fuck him.


	2. Seriously though, what the fuck?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need to finish writing this so I can keep up with posting, but gosh asahab is consuming my life atm. 
> 
> I adore you all.
> 
> (also, you might have noticed the name change. i’m now writtenrevolution here & on tumblr :) )

He gets to Mount Vernon at five o’clock on the twentieth. He parks his car behind Washington’s Rolls Royce in the circular drive and opens the door. His feet hit the gravel driveway and Alexander forces himself to take a breath. He knew Washington’s Virginia estate would be intimidating, but he hadn’t quite expected, well he hadn’t expected it to be so damn intimidating. 

It’s a two story house, with fine white paneling and a red roof. There are windows every couple of feet, and the roof arches in the middle to a point. It screams, “old money rich” and Alexander already feels like he doesn’t belong here. 

He reminds himself that he’s doing this for a promotion, he’s doing this because Washington asked him to come, and pops the trunk. His suitcase is rather light, and he drags it along the gravel behind him as he makes his way to the front of the house. 

He knocks twice, the sound echoing off the burnt brown mahogany door. A moment later, he hears the lock twists and the door opens revealing an older woman. She is beautiful, with long brown hair framing her face and piercing dark eyes. 

“You must be Alexander! Welcome to Mount Vernon!” A woman greets him with a wide smile, “I’m Martha, George’s wife.”

Alexander pastes on his brightest smile, “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Washington,” 

She makes a tsking sound, “None of that, please call me Martha.”

A movement by her leg draws Alexander’s attention, and he watches as a toddler, no older than three he guesses, peeks out from behind her dress pants. He’s surprised for a moment, considering Washington hadn’t mentioned having a young daughter, but quickly hides his confusion with a smile. 

“Looks like this little angel wants to meet you too.” Martha says, her smile widening as she steps further to the side. “Can you introduce yourself, angel?”

Alexander’s always been told he was good with kids. He loved Eliza’s like they were his own, and he’s always appreciated the simplistic outlook they had. He squats down so they’re eye level, and the little girl looks up at him with bright eyes and a grin. 

“Hi there, I’m Alexander. What’s your name?”

She grins wider, pushing back a couple of black ringlets from her eyes, “Patsy,” She replies, popping the “P”. And then, to Alex’s surprise, she holds out her hand in an imitation of a handshake. 

He shakes it once, smiling back at her. “It’s nice to meet you, Patsy.”

“Come in, come in, let me show you to your room.” Martha says, opening the door open and ushering him inside. The inside of Washington’s house smells like Christmas, like cinnamon and cookies, and it reminds him of holidays back on Nevis. 

“Patsy, my angel, go find George.” Martha says, directing her words to the young toddler. 

Patsy’s face scrunches up. Alexander doesn’t know if it’s confusion or refusal. 

“Aller à George.” Martha repeats, although her words are in French this time. 

Alexander raises an eyebrow. The Washingtons taught their daughter French? Since when did Washington even know French?

“No,” Patsy says with a frown, before she points a chubby finger at Alexander, “Go with you.”

Martha lets out a fond sigh, “Okay, but you better ask Alexander if he minds.”

Patsy turns her gaze towards him, and smiles brightly. There’s something errily, familar almost, in the way her lips turn up and the small dimples on her cheeks. 

“D'accord?” 

Alexander returns her smile, “D'accord. You can come.”

Patsy giggles, obviously happy by his responds, and takes Martha’s hand as she leads them up the stairs. His bag clinks against the wood on the way up, and Alex tightens his grip on the handle. 

Martha shows him to the second door on the left. She opens it, walking inside as Alexander and Patsy follow her. Patsy runs ahead, stumbling on her feet as she hoists herself onto the bed. She falls backwards, her curls fanning out beside her head. 

“This is where you’ll be staying.” Martha tells him, “We’ll have dinner in a few hours once everyone has returned, but feel free to roam around. This house is yours for the week, Alexander, please make use of it. George mentioned you liked books?”

“I do.”

“Well, the library is on the first floor, just passed the kitchen. Please help yourself. God knows no one else in this house reads enough.”

“Thank you, Martha.”

She gives him another genuine grin, “Of course, Alexander.” She turns her attention to the child who’s making starfishes on the bedspread. “Patsy, come now.”

“Papa here?”

Martha picks her up from the bed, resting Patsy on her hip. “Soon, my angel. Tell Alexander we’ll see him at dinner.”

“Alex-yander?” Patsy repeats, like she doesn’t quite understand the word. 

“How bout you call me Alex?” He offers, and Patsy claps her hands together with a squeal. 

“Alex!”

“I’ll see you at dinner, okay?”

“Dinner.” Patsy says, clinging to Martha’s shoulder like her life depends on it. 

He sees them out, and then makes quick work of unpacking his suitcase. What is usual a daunting task is diminished by the fact that Alexander hadn’t cared to pack too much. He hangs his suit by the door, knows he’ll need it for the New Years Eve party, and puts everything else in the empty dresser. 

When he’s finished, and finds that only half an hour has passed, he decides to take Martha up on her offer. 

He ventures downstairs, quickly finding the library without much trouble. 

It, like the rest of the house, casts an imposing shadow. Alexander is struck, equally, by overwhelment and awe. He had known Washington was fond of books, and seen the piles in his New York townhouse, but this puts that to shame. It casts him in a new light, and makes it even more clear that Alexander has far more in common with the man than he previously thought. 

The library is composed of bookshelves that span the entirety of the room, reaching high up towards the ceiling. 

Alexander roams, fingers dragging over the book spines as he scans for something interesting to read. Washington’s taste is diverse, and he has books that cover all genres. He finds scientific books, philosophy, history, and fiction too. 

Alex’s eyes find a familiar spine and he pulls it from the shelf. The Leviathan by Thomas Hobbs. Alexander flips to the first page, sees an inscription there from Martha, and decides to use his free time to read this one. He hasn’t read it since college, and as far as he can remember, it was a good read. He curls up on the couch, reopening the book, and letting his eyes skim the page. 

He’s nose deep in a Hobb’s thoughts when he hears a quiet sound behind him. He looks over his shoulder, expecting Martha or Washington, but blinks in surprise when he sees Patsy. 

“Hi,” She says, voice low. 

“Hello there.”

She hesitantly walks over to where he’s sitting on the couch. She stops in front of him, her eyebrows furrowed. “You Alex?”

He smiles at her. “Nope, I’m Patsy.”

Her brow furrows even more and she tilts her head. “No, me Patsy. You Alex.”

Alexander squints his eyes, “So I’m Patsy and you’re Alex?”

She dissolves into a fit of giggles, plopping down onto the floor in front of the couch. “No! I’m Patsy!” She says, voice high and amused. 

“Oh, so if you’re Patsy, then I’m Alex?”

“Oui! You Alex, me Patsy.”

“Okay,” Alexander says, nodding his head as if finally understanding, “Well Patsy, what are you up to?”

“I explore.” She says, thumping a fist against the hardwood, “You readed?”

He holds up the book for her to see, “Yes, I’m reading. Do you like to read?”

She nods her head, curls shaking around her, “Yes, Papa read to me.”

“Your papa reads to you? What’s he read to you?”

She purses her lips, considering, “Lots’a stuff. You readed to me?”

“You want me to read you something?”

Patsy nods her head again, standing up on short legs to pull herself onto the couch next to Alexander. He opens the book so she can see the pages, even though he knows she - more than likely - doesn’t understand a damn thing that’s written there. 

“Okay, so where do you want me to start?”

Patsy points at a random word in the middle of the sentence halfway down the page. Alexander huffs a laugh, but starts there anyway. 

“to trust, to rely on another, is to Honour him; signe of oplmon of his vertue and power. To distrust, or not beheve, is to Dishonour.” Alexander begins as Patsy stops squriming. Her fingers press on the page where Alex had started, and he fights a smile, “To hearken to a roans counsell, or discourse of what kind soever, is to Honour; as a signe we think him wise, or eloquent, or witty. To sleep, or go forth, or talk the while, is to Dishonour.”

Patsy makes a bob of her head, as if she perfectly understands the words, Alexander himself, as trouble following.

After a moment, she says,“Who wroted?” Her fingers pointing to the book. 

“The author? His name is Thomas Hobbs.”

Her eyes go wide, “Papa!”

Alex blinks at her. “Your Papa reads you Thomas Hobbs?”

She shakes her head vehemently, curls flying around her face, “No, Papa.” She stressed, pointing at the book. 

“You want to show your Papa the book?”

She huffs, arms crossing in front of her. 

Alexander winces. Okay, so maybe he isn’t perfect with kids. 

“You want to go find your Papa?”

This gets her attention. She turns big eyes back to him and nods furiously. “Oui, yes, Papa.”

“Okay, okay,” Alexander sits the book down next to him, “Let’s go find your Papa.”

She grabs his hand and he follows her out of the library - Patsy mostly dragging him - and into the kitchen. Washington’s at the stove, cooking something in a small pot and not facing them. Patsy stops in her tracks, turning a confused look to Alex. 

“Okay, go to Papa.” Alexander says quietly. 

Patsy’s expression grows more confused. “Papa?”

“Your Papa.” He says, motioning to Washington’s turned back. 

She shakes her head, again, “Papa?”

And, okay, Alexander is lost. He looks at her in confusion, hearing the door behind them open. It’s a second later that Patsy’s eyes go wide, and she lets out a squeal of excitement. She holds out her arms, “Papa!”

His confusion grows as he watches her take off into a sprint, in the exact opposite direction of Washington. 

Alexander follows her with his eyes, watching as she rushes to greet whoever just walked in. He glances up from the man’s expensive dress shoes, and looks into the eyes of his ex-boyfriend. 

Its that exact second that every muscle in his body freezes. His heart stops, his lungs stop, everything stops for one split second as the reality of the situation set in. 

Washington isn’t Patsy’s dad. Alexander’s ex-boyfriend, Thomas, is. And he was here, in Virginia, at the same place Alexander was staying. 

Obviously, Alexander had down something terrible in his past life, and was now paying for it in full. He looks into Thomas’s wide eyes and barely can resist the urge to laugh. 

Seriously though, what the fuck?


	3. what on Earth he could have done to deserve this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so French is in italics. However, I left the longer sentences in English but put them in italics so y'all can know that they're spoken in French, but I hate making translations at the bottom because I think it kind of pulls the reader from the story. So when Thomas is talking to himself, he's speaking in French. 
> 
> Also a huge thanks to tinywhim for helping me with French pet names. I adore you!

No one says anything for a long moment. Thomas is looking at him, his face open and an even mix between horrified and confused. He’s just looking at Alexander, with wide eyes, not saying a damn thing. A moment later, Patsy runs smack into Thomas’s leg, her arms over her head and she tries to get his attention. 

“Up, Papa.  _ En l'air _ !” She says, and Thomas finally seems to come back to his senses. 

Alex watches him lift her up into his arms, holding her tightly as he presses a kiss to her forehead. “You miss me,  _ ma puce _ ?”

She nods her head enthusiastically before pointing a tiny finger back at Alex and grining, “Alex readed book.”

Thomas’s eyes find his once more, and there’s an unreadable expression on his face. It lasts only a second before he’s turning back to Patsy, bouncing her gently in his arms, “Alex read you a book?

“ _ Oui _ , Papa.”

“What’d he read you, darling?”

Patsy’s face scrunches up and she narrows her eyes at Alex. “He readed, uh, Papa?”

Thomas shoots him a questioning gaze and Alex can’t help but smile at the precious child in Thoma’s arms. Alex crosses his hands over his chest and supplies, “Thomas Hobbs.”

He sees Thomas’s lips twitch at that before it fads back into nothingness, and then he directs his voice to Patsy, “Thomas Hobbs, huh? Looks like Papa raised a future philosopher.”

She blinks at him, “Phil-ocifer?”

“Philosopher.” Thomas enunciates, “It means thinker.”

“Français?”

“ _ Philosophe _ , darling.”

She nods, before making grabbing hands at Thomas and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Then she tucks her face in the crook of Thomas’s neck.

Alexander stands there, unsure of where to go or what to say. What exactly does one say to their ex-boyfriend that they haven’t seen in over six years?

Thomas, it seems, has no problem pretending like Alexander doesn’t exist at all. He walks past him, Patsy in his arms, and into the kitchen. Alexander blinks after his retreating form, before hesitantly moving to follow him. 

“Everything looks good for the party, George. Caterers said they’d be here that afternoon.” Thomas tells Washington, as Alexander quietly sits at the table beside where they speak at the stove . Patsy’s looking over Thomas’s shoulder, her thumb in her mouth, and grins at him. 

“Thank you, Thomas.” Washington says, sounding genuine. His gaze finds Alexander and his smile is immediate. “Alexander, my boy, I didn’t even hear you come in. This is Thomas Jefferson and his daughter Martha, he’s the friend I mentioned was joining us. Thomas, this is my best lawyer, Alexander Hamilton.”

Thomas looks over his shoulder, face unreadable, and Alexander speaks before Thomas can say anything. 

“We’ve actually met, Sir.”

He sees Thomas’s deep inhale. 

“Really? Small world, I suppose. How’d y’all meet?”

Thomas interjects as soon as the words leave Washington’s mouth, his words blank and tone almost harsh, “We were friends in college.” 

Alexander winces at the tone. “Yeah, we were college friends.”

“That’s perfect then!” Washington says, oblivious to the tension in the room, “I was a little worried you two wouldn’t get along. I’m glad I was wrong.”

Alexander chokes a laugh that sounds entirely too fake to his ears. Thankfully, Patsy interrupts the stilled conversation with a loud yawn. 

“You tired, _ma puce_?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Okay, I’m going to go lay Patsy down for a while. How long until dinner?”

Washington looks back at the pan, humming thoughtfully, “Give it an hour or so.”

“Okay, my girl, let’s get you down for a quick nap, okay?”

Patsy yawns again, “ _D'accord_.”

Thomas leaves the room without offering Alexander a glance. As soon as he’s gone, Alexander excuses himself to the library. Finally alone with his thoughts, he takes the opportunity to panic. 

Fuck, Thomas is here. He’s here. Fuck. He hasn’t seen him in years. Not since college, not since the breakup. Hasn’t even spoken to him since. Didn’t even talk to him when Thomas published that God forsaken book and broke Alexander’s heart all over again. 

He shoots Eliza a quick text. 

To Betsy: SOS!!! SOS!! SOSOSOSOSOSO

He sends the message, before taking a moment to get himself together. This is fine, everything is fine. Alexander is a grade A professional and he can deal with this as such. 

But, he thinks, ignoring Thomas isn’t the way to go. There’s too much history there, too many bad memories intertwined with good ones, and if he ignores it - he’s afraid that it’ll boil over and he’ll accidentally pop off some comment. 

He gets himself together in record time, and leaves the library. He takes the stairs slowly, trying to put this off as long as he can. But, deep down, he knows that it's pointless. Sooner or later, they’re going to have to talk, and prolonging it will - more than likely - make it worse. 

Alexander rounds the corner, sees the way the door just before his is open. He walks to it carefully, stopping just after the door to peek in. 

The sight before him stops Alexander before he even realizes his legs have frozen. Thomas is sitting on the bed, holding Patsy in his arms, and slowly rocking her. His face is soft and genuine, his eyes focused on her alone. 

“ _ What’s Papa gotten himself into?”  _ He says, voice a whisper, “ _ I wish your mom was here to tell me what to do.” _

Alex watches as Patsy reaches up to pull on a strand of Thomas’s hair. She yawns loudly, “ _ Mama _ .”

“Yes, angel. I bet she’d tell me I was being an idiot.”

Patsy’s face scrunches up in distaste, and - now - Alexander knows why that look had been so familiar to him. It was the same look Thomas used to have when Alexander said something he didn’t agree with. It’s almost the exact same, from the furrow of her brow to the sharp downturn of her lips. 

“Papa is smart.” 

He laughs - once - before cooing her softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Thank you, darling. Now, close your eyes and try to get some sleep.”

“Not tired, Papa.” Patsy says, before she breaks out into another yawn. 

It has the yawn effect on Alexander and he can’t help the yawn that spreads across his own lips. Thomas looks up at the sound, his brow furrowing, before he looks back down at Patsy. 

“Remember that Santa won’t come unless you’re good.” Thomas says and Patsy immediately crawls off his lap and onto the bed behind him, slipping under the covers. 

She covers her mouth with her hand and closes her eyes. After a second, she peeks back open, “I sleepin’, Papa. Santa will come,  _ non _ ?”

Alexander crosses his arms, sees the small smile on Thomas’s lips as he rises from the bed. He drops a chaste kiss on Patsy’s forehead, before pulling the blankets further up. “Yes,  _ ma puce _ . If you close your eyes and go to sleep, Santa will come.”

Patsy closes her eyes again, rolling onto her side and taking a deep breath. Thomas watches her for a moment, before he looks over his shoulder at Alexander. He sees the way Thomas’s shoulders slump, just slightly, as he turns from Patsy and comes to the door. He shuts it, quietly, behind him. 

And then it’s just the two of them. 

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Thomas says suddenly, as if the words forced themselves from his mouth, “Washington said he invited one of his employees, but I didn’t ask for a name.”

Alexander slumps further against the wall behind him and shrugs, “I didn’t know you’d be here either. Last time I heard, you were in France.”

“You kept up with me?” Thomas asks, voice surprised. 

“Yeah,” Alexander says, his voice growing a little hard of its own accord, “I’ve been waiting for the sequel to your  _ scathing _ autobiography.”

“I deserved that.”

“You did.” He agrees without hesitation, “You couldn’t have thought to warn me before you published a book that blasted me in front of the whole world?”

“I tried to, Alexander, but you wouldn’t answer my phone calls.”

He remembers, quite vividly, watching the phone ring. Eliza had eventually gotten sick of the look on his face, and grabbed it from his hands, locking it in her room until the calls ceased. 

“Everything I wrote was true.” Thomas continues. “Every-”

“It wasn’t the whole story,” Alexander interrupts him, feels the way his heart burns in his chest, “You made me out to be the villain, when it was what we both wanted. I don’t think I have to remind you that it wasn’t all bad.”

There’s an underlying implication in his words. He knows Thomas remembers the good times, remembers the way they had danced in the kitchen, the way Thomas had always kissed the back of Alex’s palm, the way they had been wholly and irrevocably in love. 

Thomas isn’t looking at him, his eyes trained on the patterned carpet beneath them.

“You can’t even look at me?” Alexander asks, unable to believe his voice sounds as broken as it does. 

He had loved Thomas. Thomas had loved him, and now the man couldn’t even bother to make eye contact? It hurts, making something hot burn in his chest. 

“You didn’t even say goodbye.” Is Thomas’s reply. He looks up from the carpet and Alexander can see the way his eyes are a little cloudy. 

He takes a breath, “I didn’t think you wanted me to.”

“I don’t want to fight about something that happened years ago. You did what you did, and I did what I did. There’s nothing to do about it now; I just want to make it through this week.” Thomas lets out a long sigh before he nods, once. When he speaks again, his voice is soft. “I’m sorry for writing the book, and for making you out as the bad guy. I did what it took to cope, but I should have made sure you knew before it got published.”

It’s a genuine apology, one Alexander didn’t even know he had been needing, but it makes a little of the ice in his chest melt. “I’m sorry too, for leaving things the way I did.”

“I just want us to be able to be civil,” Thomas tells him with a frown, “For the Washingtons’ sake, and for Patsy’s sake.”

“She’s a sweet girl.” Alexander says, and he means it. Despite his rather rocky past with Thomas, he can admit that she is an angel. “It’s hard to believe you have a daughter, and that she’s bilingual.”

He sees Thomas’s expression shift, his eyes alit with pride, “It comes with the territory of growing up in France. She was born at Monticello, but I,” He pauses for a moment and there is something almost sad in his eyes, “I moved us not long after she was born. Between them speaking French at daycare and me speaking English at home, she was bound to pick them both up.”

Alexander nods his head, unable to ask Thomas the question that’s burning in his throat. What exactly happened to Patsy’s mother?

“We can be civil, right?” Alexander asks after a moment, sees the way Thomas flashes a tiny grin - not even a ghost of his actual smile - back at him. 

“Of course we can. Like you said, it wasn’t all bad.”

And he wants to say something, wants to make Thomas relive the good times they did have, just to get a chance to relive them himself. He doesn’t get the chance, though, because his ringtone cuts through the lingering silence like a gunshot. 

He looks at the caller ID, sees Eliza’s name, and shoots Thomas an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, it’s Eliza, I should take this.”

One of Thomas’s eyebrows arches, just the slightest, but Alexander had been so used to picking up the details of his expressions when they were together, and he supposes its a pattern he’s never quite fallen out of. 

“I’ll see you at dinner.” Thomas says, opening the door to his bedroom again and disappearing inside. 

Alexander rushes to his room, shutting and locking the door behind him, before sliding his finger across the screen of his phone. 

“What’s wrong, Alex?” Comes her voice on the other end. And while it is calming and grounding, it only serves to remind him of the before. 

“This is bad Eliza, like really bad. I have to come back to New York immediately.”

“Oh hush, you. It’s just a week with your boss, it can’t be that-”

“Syracuse.”

Eliza stops short of finishing her sentence. She’s quiet for a moment before she speaks again, but this time her voice is much more serious,“What?” 

“Syracuse, Eliza, fucking Syracuse.”

“Okay, Alex, just take a deep breath before you talk yourself into a panic attack.”

He listens to her advice, breathing in a deep sigh of the Virginian air. 

“Now, please explain to me why you’re calling Syracuse when you’re supposed to be in Virginia at your Boss’s estate?”

Alexander waits another second, giving his heart time to catch up with his head before he continues, “Washington invited him to come for Christmas, Eliza, they’re friends. Thomas is here, staying at Washington’s in Virginia, with his fucking daughter.”

“Okay, that’s totally fine. You can deal with this, Alexander, you guys broke up years ago. You’ve both moved on. Everything is going to be okay.” Eliza murmurs into the phone, and Alex closes his eyes to listen to her voice. 

He notices her lack of surprise about Patsy, and he figures she must have already known. Angelica had probably mentioned it at some point, and it makes sense that they wouldn’t tell him. Why rub the wound raw before it was even healed?

“I know, ‘Liza. It’s been six years. I just wasn’t expecting it- him, or the memories he drags up.”

“I wish there was something more I could do, love.” Eliza tells him, “But I know you and I know Thomas. Just get through this week, and you’ll be back in New York, and I’ll send Maria to her parents with the kids, and you and I will have a drunk night in. Okay?”

“God, I love you.”

He hears her smile through the phone, and wishes they weren’t so damn far away, “I love you too, Alexander. More than you’ll ever know.”

He hears laughter on the other end of the phone, and it's a reminder of life Eliza has. The wife, the two kids, the dog, and the picket white fence. The life Alexander never got to have. 

“I should let you go, but tell Maria and the kids I say hello.”

“I will,” She promises, “Call me if you need anything, doesn’t matter the time.”

“Okay, I will. Goodbye, Bets.”

“Bye Alexander. You can do this.”

The phone cuts off before he gets the chance to respond. Alexander lays down on the bed, sighing into the too perfect comforter and wondering what on Earth he could have done to deserve this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im finally done with finals so like?? maybe I'll have more time to write. who knows though.


	4. he simply turns back to Patsy and gives her another smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i forgot to post yesterday so i’m going to smash two chapters together so last post is still on christmas. also i haven’t read through this one, so no promises on how good it is, but i was supposed to leave for a party about 20 minutes ago and i haven’t and i’m super late so i’m posting this now because i definitely won’t be home before midnight anyway, ima stop rambling because i have got to go omg

The next morning, Alexander awakens with the sun. It streams through his window, bringing in feelings reminiscent of his home on Nevis, and he rolls over - throwing a pillow over his head and trying to convince his body to go back to sleep. 

It doesn’t work. 

Half an hour of tossing and turning later, Alexander eventually drags himself out of bed and into the en suite bathroom. He showers, letting the hot water fall over his hair and neck, taking a fraction of the tension out of his back. 

He towels out his hair, throwing on jeans and a t-shirt, and heads downstairs to quell the growing groan from his stomach. 

No one else is awake yet, or at least not out of their rooms, so he settles on two pieces of toast with a spoonful of peanut butter. It’s not the most filling, but he’s never been pleased with the ability to cook.

He scrolls through his emails and the news, trying to stay caught up on the big city life, even in a place as rural and cutoff as Mount Vernon. 

It’s sometime later that he hears the pitter-patter of feet against the hardwood and looks up. 

He sees Patsy appear, her head shorter than the table he sits at, and she pulls herself into the chair next to him. She’s wearing her pajamas still, a matching set of bright - hideously - purple stripes. 

“You’ve got to let your father stop dressing you, sweetie.” He says, smiling as she reaches up to tug on a strand of his hair. She lets go with a giggle and a grin, and how he wishes he could be so awake at ass o’clock in the morning. 

“She actually picked that one out herself.” A voice comes from the kitchen’s entrance, and Alex looks up to see Thomas standing there, dressed in jeans, a purple shirt, and barefoot. 

The scene is eerily domestic, a mirror of what their lives could have looked like, and it makes Alexander extremely uncomfortable. 

“Well, she obviously got your terrible taste in fashion.”

He watches Thomas snort, his eyes rolling too dramatically, as he rounds to pick Patsy up from her chair. He twirls her in his arms, and she squeals, arms coming out to grab ahold of his hands for extra safety. 

“Don’t you listen to him, ma puce, Alexander is just grumpy before he gets his coffee. You’re absolutely perfect, my dear.”

He sees Thomas laugh, open and carefree, and it makes something hot and unreasonable burn in his chest. It’s stupid. Patsy is his daughter, of course he’d be affectionate with her, but he’s never been in control of his less rational emotions. Seeing them together, so beautifully domestic, is a painful reminder that he could have had this life. He could have had this life with Thomas. 

“Come on, Pats, let’s get you some breakfast.” Thomas says after a moment, sitting her back on the ground and turning to the fridge. She takes the opportunity to crawl back into the chair closest to Alex. 

It’s awkward for a moment once Thomas sits down next to her, giving her a container of yogurt and some mixed berries. There is a tense silence in the air, stifling even in the cool Virginian air, and it makes Alexander feel immensely uncomfortable. 

“So,” Thomas says after a moment, “You’re working for Washington.”

Alexander takes a long sip from his mug before answering, “Yeah, he scooped me up right out of law school with an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“Small world it seems,” Thomas replies, “You working for a friend of mine, I mean.”

He wants to call it fate or divine intervention, but simply nods instead. “I suppose so.”

Patsy’s making a mess of her yogurt, but the scene is so cute Alexander cannot help the smile that passes his face. When he looks back to Thomas, the man is looking at him with a perplexed expression. 

Alexander clears his throat, “And you’re a successful writer with the world’s most precious daughter.”

“Patsy is precious, but I don’t know if I’d call one good book a successful writing career.”

Alex nods, and the burning question in the back of his mind makes itself known again. He decides he might as well ask. Thomas might not answer, but it’s worth a shot. 

“And, uh, Patsy’s mom?"

Thomas is quiet for a long moment, staring into his own coffee mug before he answers, “Martha passed away during childbirth.”

And even though he had begun to expect it, it still sucks the breath out of his lungs, “I’m sorry.”

Thomas offers him a strained smile and a shrug, “It was years ago.” He says, “How long have you and Eliza been together?”

The question makes him snort on instinct. But then he remembers that Thomas has been in France for years now, and he doesn’t know if he’s kept in contact with any of their old friends. 

“Eliza and I are just friends. She’s married now, got two little kiddos of her own.”

“Oh,” Thomas says, and then after a moment, “Are you, uh, with anyone else then?”

Alexander suppresses his bitterness and smiles. “Just recently single.”

He sees Thomas’s eyebrow arch in surprise, “Dumping you before the holidays. That’s a shitty move.”

He snorts in reply, “You’re right, but it wasn’t going to work out. Might as well rip the bandaid off while you can.”

Thomas hums in agreement, and a nice silence falls upon them. Patsy eats mostly in silence, only occasionally making soft noises of satisfaction. 

It’s sometime later that Washington and Martha join them. 

They both look as put together as always, bright smiles as they enter the kitchen. 

“Thomas, Alexander, I was wondering if I could ask you two a huge favour?”

“Of course, sir.” Is Alexander’s immediate response. He might be an ass kisser, but it’s working well for him so far. 

Thomas shakes his head in agreement, turning his attention to Washington. 

“Is there anyway you could pick up the decorations from town and finish the playlist for the party? I tried, but you know how worthless I am with technology.”

“Fine with me,” Alexander says, turning a questioning gaze towards Thomas. 

He looks hesitant for a moment before he relents, “Yeah, I’m game.”

Martha claps her hands, that same wide smile on her face, “Perfect. I can watch this little angel, unless you want to take her with you?”

“It’s best she stays. I’m afraid she hasn’t grown too fond of car rides yet.” Thomas replies, dropping a chaste kiss to his daughter’s forehead before turning back to Alex. 

“We can go now if you’re ready? No sense in putting it off.”

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

And so it goes. 

The ride is mostly silent, some old country music on the radio, and Alexander sits in the passenger seat and tries to keep his leg from bouncing. It reminds him too much of their previous life together. Of going on long car rides and belting out crooning love songs. 

When they get to Mark’s to get the decorations, Alexander can’t help the ghost of a smile that makes its way onto his face. It’s your average run down, small town store and it’s utterly adorable. 

He follows Thomas inside, and they both decide to split the list in order to make the most out of the time. 

“I’ll meet you back up here when you’re done?” Thomas says, “Here, let me give you my phone number so you can send me my half of the list.”

“I actually still have your number. That is, if you haven’t changed it.” Alexander says, almost unable to admit it. 

He had deleted photos of them, hid from memories, but he’d never worked up the courage to delete the other man’s number. 

Thomas is quiet for a long moment, before he nods. “I haven’t changed it.” He says, face unreadable. 

They part ways, and Alexander begins to move down the aisle. He sends Thomas his section of the list, purposely not looking too hard at the old picture that’s still attached to his contact. 

Once all the items are bought and loaded into the car, they return back to Mount Vernon. Washington and Patsy come out to help them carry in the bags, and Alexander’s arms lose circulation more than once during the ordeal. 

When everything is moved in, Alexander and Thomas take to the library, with Patsy in tow, to finish the Christmas Eve playlist. 

It’s not hard work, just a simple compiling of songs onto a playlist, and Alexander watches over Thomas’s shoulder as his fingers move, rapid paced, across the keyboard. 

“Oh, Baby It’s Cold Outside,” Alex says, “Make sure that’s on there.”

He sees Thomas roll his eyes, but types the words in nonetheless. 

Alex feels a tugging on his pants, and when he looks down Patsy is there with her arms in the air. “Up, Alex, up.”

It takes him a second to respond, and then he bends down to lift her into his arms. Patsy lets out a giggle and tugs on a strand of his hair. 

“Alex have long hair like Papa.”

He smiles at her, “I do have long hair, but can I tell you a secret?”

She nods her head seriously and leans in to let him stage whisper into her ear. “Your Papa’s hair used to be much longer than it is now.”

Patsy makes a gasping sound and pulls back from him, eyes wide. “Papa longer hair?”

Alexander mimics her expression and nods, “Very long.”

She busts into a serious of giggles and Alex’s sees, out of the corner of his eye, the look Thomas sends him. He still can’t read it completely, but it looks somewhere between a mix of annoyance and fondness. 

It makes his heart do something stupid in his chest, so he simply turns back to Patsy and gives her another smile.


	5. Goodnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas is approaching too fast and I am v not ready for it. but here's another chapter!
> 
> when I say this one isn't good I mean it LMAO but Im too lazy to even attempt to write it better, soooo yeah

He’s laying in bed the next afternoon, typing up some papers for a new case. He doubts it’ll even go to trial, considering most of the evidence was circumstantial, but he’s still prepping for it. 

Alexander hears a cough and glances up to find Patsy, dressed in a ridiculously purple outfit, hovering in his doorframe. 

Alex closes his laptop and waves her in. “Hello Patsy.”

“Hi Alex. You readed to me?”

“You want me to read you something?”

She nods her head in response, “Please?”

It’s really no bother, but he’s not trying to step on Thomas’s toes. “Did you ask your Papa?”

“Papa says _d'accord_.”

“Okay then, Patsy, let’s go find you a book.”

He follows her from his room and to the Library. She picks a random book from the shelves, an old French copy of the Little Prince, and then crawls onto the couch beside Alex. He opens the book and she scoots so she’s leaning against his side to look at the pages in front of them. After a moment, she points to the middle of a section. 

He barely surpresses his smile, but starts there anyway. 

“ _Les grandes personnes m’ont conseillé de laisser de côté les dessins de serpents boas ouverts ou fermés, et de m’intéresser plutôt à la géographie, à l’histoire, au calcul et à la grammaire_.” Alexander says, “ _C’est ainsi que j’ai abandonné, à l’âge de six ans, une magnifique carrière de peintre. J’avais été découragé par l’insuccès de mon dessin numéro 1 et de mon dessin numéro 2_.”

“C’est français?” Patsy asks from where she’s tucked next to him. 

“ _Oui_ , angel. It’s written by a French speaker.”

“You keeping reading.”

He smiles at her demand, purposely not making a comment about how much it reminds him of Thomas, and continues on. 

_“Les grandes per- sonnes ne comprennent jamais rien toutes seules, et c’est fati- gant, pour les enfants, de toujours et toujours leur donner des explications.”_

“I have to agree with him.” A voice says from the hall, and Alex looks up to find Thomas there. He’s leaning against the door jam with a small smile on his face. “Grownups never understand anything.”

Patsy waves a big arm at her dad, “ _Papa! Le Petit Prince_!”

“Yes, angel, The Little Prince.” Thomas says, “Don’t let me interrupt you. Please, keep reading.”

Alexander allows Patsy to settle down against him once more, and picks up where he left off. They get through two additional chapters before she starts to grow antsy, and Thomas comes to shit down beside her. 

“I was planning on making cookies with her.” Thomas says slowly, his eyes finally finding Alex’s, “She’s fond of you. I’m sure she’d like if you helped”

Patsy nods her head again, “Yes, Alex, cookies!”

He looks at her adorable little grin, and can’t find a reason to say no. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll come.” Alexander says with a smile, “Let’s get your hands washed first, okay?”

He watches as Thomas pins back a few of Patsy’s more unruly curls, and scoops her up in his arms to carry her towards the kitchen. Alex follows after them, watching as Thomas sits Patsy into a chair and pulls it in front of the sink. 

Alex turns on the water to help Patsy wash her hands, as Thomas moves around the kitchen behind them - no doubt getting the ingredients ready for them to start cookies. 

“What do you think, Pats, chocolate chip?”

“Yes Papa, chocolate.”

Alexander smiles, squirting a little soap on her hands and watching as she furiously rubs them together under the stream of water. He does the same, rinsing the suds from his fingers before grabbing a towel that hangs on the oven rack. He dries off his hands, before handing it to Patsy and helping her off the chair that sits in front of the sink. 

Thomas has a set of bowls and spoons laid out in front of them on the counter, along with bags of sugar, flour, and chocolate chips among other things. 

“Alright, _ma puce_ , butter and sugars first.” Thomas says, standing behind her and helping her pour the correct amount of brown sugar into the bowel, although he’s definitely doing more of the work. 

Alex busies himself with the butter, looking over Thomas’s shoulder at his phone screen to make sure he’s got the right amount. He drops it into the bowel, watches as Patsy pours the brown and white sugar on top of it. 

Thomas hands her a fork and her chubby fingers grab ahold of it. “Okay, now why don’t you show Alex how to mix? I don’t think he knows how.”

Alex holds up his hands in surrender, “I don’t know. Can you show me?”

Patsy giggles adorably before sticking the fork into the melted butter. She starts slowly, looking up at Alex every couple of seconds to make sure he’s paying attention. 

“You go in, uh,” She makes a round motion with the fork and looks up at Thomas. 

“Circle.”

Her eyebrows crease, and she looks so much like her father that it makes Alex’s smile grow, “Français?”

“ _Cercle_ , love.” Comes Thomas’s reply, and he doesn’t bother looking back at them. 

“ _Oui,_ Alex go in circle with fork.” Patsy tells him, “Mix.” 

He watches with rapt attention as she explains to mix until its looks the same, and then barely stops a laugh when she forces the fork into his hands and says, “Test time!”

Alexander moves the circle like she had showed him, slow and careful and smiles as she crosses her arms and nods approvingly. 

They had the rest of the ingredients, Patsy stirring the whole time, and then they layer them on a baking sheet and put them in the 450 set oven. 

Its as soon as the cookies are in the oven that Patsy picks up a handful of flour and tosses it at Thomas. It sticks to his face, dusting his hair and the front of his shirt. Patsy’s laugh is so loud that Alexander can’t help but join in. 

The look on Thomas’s face is really too good. He looks unimpressed and somehow annoyed too, and it’s too good. Alexander’s sides hurt and it only gets worse the longer Thomas goes without a response. 

And then, slowly, he picks up a handful of flour and tosses it right into Alexander’s hair. 

Which leads them into a full blown war. 

Alexander’s hiding behind the counter, one hand holding an egg and a bag of sugar in the other. He hears a squeal and makes the mistake of peeking over the top. And then he gets smacked in the face by a shit ton of flour. He coughs on it, a cloud escaping his mouth, and then Patsy is running up to him. She has an egg in her outstretched hand, and Alex considers getting her first. She looks so determined, though, that he pretends not to see her. 

And then he gets an egg to the forehead. 

“Way to go, Pats!” Thomas says, giving away his location, and Alex throws the egg that direction and then he hears a splat followed by, “ _Merde_.”

They soon call a truce and Alex emerges from his hiding spot. They’re all covered in a dusting of flour, both Thomas and Alex with literal egg on their face, and Thomas looks so ridiculous - his sweater no doubt ruined - that Alexander can’t help the giggle that escapes his throat. 

Thomas smiles at him, actually smiles, and he’s covered in flour and egg but this might be the most fun he’s had in a long time. It’s so different than the usual hussle and seriousness of the city, and it’s making him feel a little too content and happy. 

Like someone’s about to pull the rug out from beneath him. 

“Let’s get cleaned up and then we can eat our cookies in front of the fireplace?” Thomas says, his words directed at Patsy, but his eyes are on Alex. 

Alexander raises an eyebrow, and looks down at Patsy. “What do you think, Pats?”

“Cookies!”

He takes that as a yes. 

Thomas drags Patsy to the bathroom to get them cleaned up, as Alexander tries - desperately - to scrub the ridiculous amount of egg from his hair. He wipes his face and arms in the en suite room of his bedroom, and then changes into a pair of worn jeans and a t-shirt. 

When he gets back downstairs, Patsy is sitting in Thomas’s arms on the couch - the fireplace burning bright and hot in front of them, and a cookie in hand. 

He hesitates when entering the scene, unwilling to disrupt the domesticness he sees, until Thomas looks up and catches his eye, gently patting the spot next to him with his free hand. 

Alexander swallows roughly, walking over to drop down next to him. 

“Cookie?” Patsy says, holding out the half eaten one in her hand. 

Alexander laughs, looking at the slobber covered cookie, “That one’s yours! I don’t want to steal yours; I’ll just take this one.” He says reaching over Thomas’s lap to grab one from the plate next to him. 

He takes a small bite, the too sweet sugar melting in his mouth, and watches as she shoves the rest of her cookie into her mouth. 

“Careful, darling, or you’ll choke.” Thomas says to Patsy, brushing his hand down the back of her thick curls. 

Patsy says something, eyes trained on Alex, but her words are garbled by the half mashed cookie in her mouth. 

It makes Alexander grin, and Thomas roll his eyes. “Swallow first, sweets.”

“I braid your hair?” Patsy says after she’s swallowed.

Alexander raises an eyebrow in surprise, “Can you braid?”

She nods her head, pointing at Thomas’s curls, “Papa taught me.”

“Okay then, if you want.”

He sees Thomas wince, shooting him an apologetic look. “I apologize in advance. She still hasn’t quite gotten the hang of it.”

Which, turns out to be completely true. It’s more tugging and twisting than actual braiding, but Patsy seems to be enjoying herself, and Alexander can suffer through his subsequent headache if it means bringing a smile to her face. 

At one point, he sees Patsy turn around and mutter something to Thomas. The man responds by leaning over and collecting some of Alex’s hair in his hands. His touch is soft and gentle as he explains himself to Patsy, the simple twist of a strand and the overlap of it over another piece. His touch is warm and soothing, a reminder of when he used to play with Alex’s hair so long ago, but it vanishes almost as soon as Alex relaxes enough to enjoy it. 

He ends up with a mostly put together braid down his back, although he has a sneaking suspicion that it’s mostly thanks to Thomas. 

“It’s beautiful, Patsy. Thank you; I love it.”

She grins at him, tongue poking out between her teeth. “You're welcome.”

After a moment of comfortable silence, Thomas softly sighs. “Okay Pats, I have some work to do, so let’s get you to bed.”

Her smile slips into a frown, and she latches onto Alex’s arm. “I stay and play.”

Thomas looks at her for a long moment, before his eyes flicker back to Alex. “Well, maybe if you ask Alexander nicely, he’ll watch you for a bit.”

“You watch me?”

And he really doesn’t have the heart to say no. 

He lets Thomas escape upstairs, staying in the living room and letting Patsy talked to him about whatever crosses her mind. They play with a barbie set Washington had bought her, and Alexander has never felt more ridiculous - or fulfilled - in his life. Patsy’s a smart girl, clever like her father, and she’s the ever present reminder of what his life could have been. 

What he could have had. 

There is a part of him that still craves domestic simplicity. It’s a part that is so overwhelming at night, when he’s alone in his bed and exhausted. It leaves him wishing he had a husband to curl up with, a daughter to cherish and love, and the picture of a perfect family. 

She gets tired, eventually, and Alexander reads her Tolstoy until she falls asleep against his arm. He chuckles lightly at her, her face squished against his arm as little snores escape her mouth. 

Alexander puts the book aside, carefully lifting her in his arms. Her head rests against his shoulder as he climbs the stairs, and her arms sling around his neck in her sleep. 

Thomas’s door is open when he arrives at the top of the staircase, and Alexander peeks inside. 

Thomas is there, laying sideways on the bed in a pair of sweatpants and his glasses. He looks up when Alex clears his throat, eyes going from surprised to fond when he sees the girl asleep on his shoulder. 

“Out already, huh?” Thomas asks quietly, standing up to take her from his arms. He lays her down on the bed and pulls the blanket up around her shoulders. 

When he looks back at Alexander, the man simply shrugs, “Guess my talking put her to sleep.”

He sees Thomas crack a smile at that, “Not the first person I suppose.”

His words are neither harsh or hurtful, and Alex can’t help the way his own lips quirk up at that. 

“Definitely not.”

Thomas’s smile is soft and tired. “Are you looking forward to going back to New York?”

Alex shifts on his feet, “I guess? I don’t know, things are so different now that Kitty dumped me.”

He sees hesitancy in Thomas’s eyes, before he speaks, “Do you mind me asking why? It just seems weird to do it right before the holidays.”

“There’s not much to it,” Alex says with a sigh, “I work too hard.”

He sees the look in Thomas’s eyes, knows the man understands how ironic that statement is. Because, after all, it’s the same reason him and Thomas hadn’t worked out either. 

“I’m sorry.”

Alexander offers him a smile he doesn’t actually feel, and shrugs again. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

“Still, it sucks.”

“Yeah it does,” Alexander says with a huff of laughter, “I should get to bed. It’s late.”

Thomas walks with him to the door, leaning on the frame as Alex turns around at the last moment. 

“Goodnight Thomas.”

The other man’s eyes are dark and shining, “Goodnight.”


	6. Right now, it’s just them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn, im actually pretty happy with this chapter. 
> 
> Your comments and kudos fuel me.
> 
> Flash backs are in italics!!

It’s that next afternoon that Alexander’s sitting in the kitchen, scrolling through the latest news on his phone as Martha rummages around the kitchen. She’s mixing something that smells spicy in a big pot, heat on low, as she hums quietly to herself. 

He locks his phone, content to just listen to her soft murmurs. That is, until, she turns a knowing eye his way. She glances around once, as if making sure they’re alone, before she speaks. 

“So,” Martha says, her voice knowing and a little higher than before, “How do you and Thomas really know each other?”

He swallows and shifts in his seat, the wood suddenly feeling too hard and uncomfortable. He’s all too aware that Thomas, Patsy, or Washington could walk in at the moment. “We were friends in college.”

She scoffs and it's too loud in the quiet of the house, “Oh please, I know college friends was bullshit. George might believe it, but I don’t.”

She raises an eyebrow at him, and he knows she isn’t playing around. He wants to lie, but Alexander knows it isn’t worth it. She’s cunning and intelligent, and there’s no way she isn’t going to see through whatever lie he pulls out of his ass. 

Alexander sighs heavily, “We were involved in college actually.”

“Ah,” She winces, “Friends with benefits?” 

Alex doesn’t miss the awkwardness of discussing this with his boss’s wife, or the fact that Martha knows what friends with benefits are, but he figures he’s already dug himself into a hole. Might as well dig it all the way to China. 

“We dated for 2 years actually.”

He doesn’t miss the sharp raise of her eyebrows. “2 years, that’s a long time.”

“It is.”

Martha sighs softly, coming to sit down in the seat next to him. “How’d y’all meet?”

Alexander can’t help the small smile that crosses his lips at the memory that floods through his mind. 

_ “Fuck Thomas Jefferson,” Alexander groaned, flopping back on the bed beside Eliza. She reached out, rubbing her palm alongside his face. It was a soft touch, grounding, and helped alleviate a little of his headache.  _

_ “Thomas Jefferson?” Her voice was sweet.  _

_ Alexander sighed, rolling over to face her. “He’s this asshole in my poli-sci class. Everytime I say anything, he shoots back some terrible form of an argument. God, his politics are shit. And he’s an asshole.” _

_ Eliza’s huff of laughter was music to his ears and he relaxed further into her touch.  _

“He was in one of my classes. He was the biggest dick I’d ever met. Honestly couldn’t stand the man and his big mouth. We hated each other”

Martha’s laughter is sweet and high, “And you ended up dating? How in the hell did that happen?”

“I got drunk,” Alexander says, “And Thomas was there for me.”

_ He had no one to call. Lafayette was in the club, drunk off his ass. Hercules was out of the country, the Schuyler Sisters were in Albany. Fuck he was too drunk. The world was spinning around him, he was too nauseous and could barely see straight. Fuck, how was he going to get home? He’d lost his wallet something throughout the night, didn’t have enough money for a cab, and anyone who would help him was either drunk or not here.  _

_ He leaned up against the wall in front of him, scrolling through his phone as the words kind of blend together. Fuck! He could call John. Alexander looked at his battery percentage, seeing how close it was getting to zero, and scrolled down to the J’s. He clicked the one that looked most like John and held the phone up to his ear.  _

_ It rang a couple times before the phone clicked and he heard a voice on the other end.  _

_ “What the fuck do you want?” _

_ He blinked at the accusatory tone, “John, fuck, man. Can you come pick me up? I’m at the bar on sixth and I don’t have my wallet and my phone’s almost dead and I can’t drive. I drank too much and I’m kind of freaking out, please can you come get me?” _

_ John is quiet for a long moment before he speaks again, and when he does his voice sounds different, “Hamilton?” _

_ And oh that was weird. He pulled his phone from his face and looks at the name on the screen. His stomach dropped to his shoes when he saw the name there. It wasn’t John. It was Jefferson.  _

_ “Fuck, I called the wrong person.” _

_ “Hamilton, are you okay?” _

_ “Damn it,” Alexander said out loud, his words slurring together, “My phone’s about to die, can you please text John and tell him to come get me? Please, Jefferson, I don’t want to die out here.” _

_ “I don’t have-” _

_ The phone clicked off and Alexander pulled it away from his face, watching as the screen turned black and the battery empty sign came up.  _

_ Fuck, he was fucked.  _

_ Alexander stood out there for a long time, trying to let the world settle a little more before he attempted to walk home. Anxiety was crawling in his stomach, threatening to suck him in whole. Walking home in New York without a wallet or a phone? It was risky but he didn’t have much of a choice.  _

_ It’s just as he’s starting to gain the courage to head home, when an expensive black BMW pulls up alongside the curb in front of him. Alexander swallows, watching as the car simply idles there for a moment, before the window rolls down.  _

_ “Hamilton, get in.” Jefferson’s voice greets him.  _

_ Alexander squints through the tinted window, and his heart stops when he finally realizes that it actually is Jefferson. _

_ “What are you doin’ here?” _

_ Jefferson’s eyebrow arches and he looks equally annoyed and concerned, “To pick your drunk ass up. Now get in the fucking car before I kick your ass.” _

_ Alexander groaned and stumbled to the passenger side of the car. He opened the door and climbed inside, the leather cool against his body. Jefferson blinked at Alexander and then he reached over, hand brushing against Alex’s chest as he pulled the seatbelt down over his body and clicked it into place.  _

_ “Awe, Thomas, you care.” _

_ Jefferson glared at him, putting the car in drive and shooting him another glare, “Please feel free to shut the fuck up.” _

“And then what happened?” Martha asks, her fingers running through the length of her hair. 

“He took me back to his place, made me pancakes and coffee, let me steal his bed.”

She raises an eyebrow, “Really now? I thought you said you hated each other.” 

“I thought we did. At least until that night.”

She looks interested, intrigued even, and Alexander knows she’s going to press for information. “Okay so that night, after I ate my weight in pancakes, he put me to bed.”

_ Alexander slipped off his shoes, curling up on the plush bed Thomas had shoved him on. He took a deep breath, the scent of Thomas’s cologne and shampoo heavy on the silk sheets.  _

_ “There’s some water on the nightstand and ibuprofen.” Thomas said, his voice light, “Just try to get some sleep and sober up, ‘kay? There’s a trash can if you need to get sick.” _

_ “God, I think I love you.” Alexander hummed, “Where are you going to sleep.” _

_ Thomas huff of laughter was cute, “On the couch.” _

_ “Why?” _

_ He watched as Thomas sighed, stretching his arms above his head as the hem of his shirt pulls up a little bit, and Alexander raised his eyebrow at the show of skin.  _

_ “Because you’re drunk.” _

_ “I wish you didn’t hate me.” Alexander slurs, curling up on the pillow that smells so much like Thomas. It’s warm and makes him feel safe and sleepy.  _

_ Thomas’s hand comes out to brush against his hair, “I don’t, Alexander.” _

_ He catches Thomas’s hand in his own, “You do.” _

_ Thomas’s smile is sweet, lips curled up in the corner in the sweetest way Alexander can picture, “I don’t, Alexander. It’s quite the opposite I’m afraid.” _

_ There’s a dangerous hope growing in his chest, bright and scary, but Alexander leans into it. “What do you mean by that?” _

_ “We can talk about it in the morning, love.” _

_ Thomas leans down, pecks a chaste kiss against Alexander’s forehead. When he pulls back, his face is so close to Alexander’s that he reaches up and brushes his fingers through the man’s neatly trimmed beard. And when Thomas leans into the touch, his eyelashes fluttering, Alexander kisses him.  _

_ The world tilts on its axis - the entire globe realigning - and Alexander has to pull away before the feeling bursting behind his eyes makes him sick.  _

_ “I think I love you.” _

_ Thomas smiles, “You already said that.” _

“And then what? You just started dating?” Martha responds. 

“Oh hell no, I’m much too problematic for that. It took a couple months of me avoiding the fuck out of him. Eventually he cornered me outside an IHOP and told me he was in love with me, and then I finally told him I loved him too.”

“And IHOP? How romantic.”

“Right?” Alexander says with a laugh, “And then we started dating. Moved in together after six months and everything was perfect.”

“Do you mind me asking what happened? If things were so perfect?”

Alexander tries to keep the bitterness out of his voice when he replies, “Thomas graduated and wanted to move back to Virginia. I wanted to stay in the city. Neither of us were willing to budge. We got into a fight, and I packed my things and left. We haven’t spoken since.”

A realization, of sorts, crosses her face and she looks almost sympathetic. “Any chance you’re the mystery man in his book?”

Alexander frowns in response. “Yeah, it’s me. He wrote that book, and even though he changed my name, everyone that knew him knew who it was about.”

“How’d you feel when you read it?”

“Heartbroken.”

He remembers Angelica slamming the book onto his desk, demanding to know if it was true. He remembers Madison’s constant glare. Hercules’ slightly disapproving looks. Even word reached their professors. Wherever he went, Alexander couldn’t escape Thomas’s words, couldn’t escape the consequences of his actions. 

_ When he turned the last page, the tears were forcing themselves from his eyes of their own accord. He rereads the last few paragraphs, Thomas’s words like a knife in the chest.  _

_ Did Thomas really think so little of him? That he was a spineless, manipulative bastard? That Alexander had tricked him, purposely ruining his life? _

_ He closed the book, not able to look at the front of the cover and see Thomas’s name there. He pulled it against his chest, breathing heavy.  _

_ Fuck Thomas. Fuck him.  _

“He made it out to seem like our entire relationship was shit. Like I was using him the entire time.”

“I know that must have hurt you, but I know that wasn’t Thomas’s intentions.”

“I know,” Alexander says, “And I’m over it. It was a long time ago.”

Because it was. He had read the book, cried over it, and forgiven Thomas in an instant. There was still a lingering bitterness, because he had blasted Alex all over the New York Times Bestseller List, but he got it. Thomas was hurt too, and he did what it took to cope. Alexander, least of all, could hold that against him. 

She gives him a smile, not pitying but understanding, and Alex can only respond in kind. 

Martha eventually ropes them into into decorating the Christmas tree. Music is flooding through the house, light and happy, as they drap the tree in garland and lights. 

Alex looks over his shoulder, catches the way Thomas twirls Patsy and the way she laughs in return. 

“Hey can you grab those for me?” Washington asks, pointing to a box of ornaments in the corner. 

He nods in reply, happy to help, and moves to pick them up. His arm brushes against Thomas, and he realizes the moment he hears a gasp, how close they are. 

When he looks at Patsy, she’s looking at the ceiling above them. 

Alexander looks up, and wishes the world would fall in around him. Because there, hanging from the white ceiling on a string of green, is a mistletoe. 

He feels Thomas freeze next to him, but Patsy simply claps her hand and grins. 

“You have to kiss!” She says, “Missle-toe rules!”

Alex looks at Thomas, sees the way the man is looking back at him, and the way Thomas’s cheeks have grown a little pink. 

He waits a moment, breath caught in his throat, as Thomas’s eyes stare down at him. Alex stays there, not wanting to push Thomas further away, and waits until the man gives him a small smile and a nod. It’s then that Alexander leans up on his tiptoes and presses a small kiss to the man’s cheek. 

For only a second Thomas leans in, lets Alex’s kiss linger as his hands come to rest on Alexander’s waist. He moves away as soon as he does it, grabbing the box for Washington, and purposely not looking at Martha’s knowing smirk. 

It’s that night, when he’s laying in his bed, that Alexander comes to a startling conclusion. He thinks about Thomas’s soft eyes, the rush he feels when he sees him, the way he feels off center and nervous, and the way he wants nothing more than to wake up and see Thomas every morning. 

Fuck. Does he still have a thing for him?

His heart says yes, but his brain says no. It’s been years, so many long years, he has to be over it by now. But then he thinks of Thomas’s smile, and his hair, and his eyes, and it makes him realize a million times over that as much as he’s been running from his past, Thomas has always been there in the back of his mind. 

Yeah, fuck him. 

He stays in bed for a long time, trying to work through the situation. In the end, he ends up exactly where he had been before. At the growing conclusion, that just maybe, his feelings for Thomas had never really left. They were postponed maybe, but he had never really stopped caring about him. Even after Thomas wrote that shitty book, Alexander had still cared about him, had still thought about him. 

He stands from the bed and stumbles out the door in the dark. His mind is running too fast for him to sit in bed doing nothing, and he is in desperate need of a distraction. It’s as his foot hits the last step, that Alexander notices a light on in the living room and the soft music that comes from there. The song is light and familiar, and Alexander knows before he even rounds the corner, that its Thomas who is listening to it. 

He finds the man sitting on the couch, only a lamp lighting the room, and he looks deep in thought. 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Thomas looks up from where he had zoned out and gives Alex a brief smile. “Something like that.”

He sits down on the chair beside the couch where Thomas sits, leaning back and letting the familiar notes fill his ears. 

“You know what I miss most about before?” Alexander says after a moment.

Thomas raises an eyebrow, and Alexander knows he understands that before is codeword for their previous relationship. 

“What’s that?”

“Dancing with you.” Alexander can’t help the small smile that crosses his lips at the thought, “You were always such a good dancer, and Kitty hadn’t been fond of it.”

“Kitty the ex?” Thomas asks, his voice no louder than before. 

“Yeah,”

He’s looking at Thomas, sees the hesitant look in his eyes as he stares back at Alexander. After a moment, when he seems to come to terms with whatever he’s thinking, he stands from the couch and holds out a hand. 

Alex blinks at him. 

“Come on, dance with me. Once, for old time’s sake.”

Alexander stares up into those dark eyes, soft and older than he remembers, and places his hand in Thomas’s. 

He pulls Alexander into the middle of the living room and rests his hands on Alex’s hips. Alexander, himself, is frozen for a moment. It seems too familiar, too safe, to have Thomas this close to him. He relaxes after a moment, reminding himself that they’ve been here before, and allows his hands to wrap around Thomas’s neck. 

The dance itself is more of a sway, so similar to the nights where Thomas had swayed with him in the dark kitchen of their apartment, his lips on Alexander’s and his hands cradling his face. 

He feels safe in Thomas’s arms, and it's a dangerous feeling, but Alexander can only embrace it. His earlier revelation has left him feeling nostalgic, and being with Thomas only heightens that feeling. 

But it’s nice and sweet, and he feels so at home here. Alexander drops his head onto Thomas’s chest, feels the way Thomas seems to move even closer at that, and blinks up at him. 

Thomas is looking down, his eyes trailing along Alexander’s face, and it sets a low flame in Alex’s chest. 

Its stupidly intimate, especially considering they’re no where as close as they once were, but Alexander isn’t going to question it. It’s late, and they’re both probably lonely, but no one except Thomas has ever been able to make him feel this way. 

Alexander closes his eyes, feels the way Thomas’s hands keep him close and just relaxes into his touch. He’s going to have to think about this tomorrow. He’s going to have to wonder and worry what it could possibly mean. 

But not right now he won’t. Right now, it’s just them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello on my Tumblr: writtenrevolution


	7. Because, fuck, he’s in love with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left!!
> 
> Happy holidays everyone!!! I adore you so much.

Christmas Eve comes too soon. Alexander’s still confused, doesn’t really know where he and Thomas stand after their dance in the living room last night, and he knows they’ll be too caught up in the hussle of the party to get the chance to really talk about it. And they need to talk about it. Alexander still has feelings, complicated emotions that need to be sorted out, and he has an exhilarating feeling that Thomas might feel the same. 

He doesn’t see him or Patsy all morning, and by the time seven o’clock rolls around, he’s a bundle of nerves just waiting to explode. He dresses in silence, the tux fitting just like the last time he wore it. It’s snug, fitted perfectly by Hercules, and shows off his assets. 

His hands are steady as he ties the bowtie - remembers how Eliza had done the same for him at her wedding. His heart aches at the memory. How he misses her, the smell of her perfume, her smile and laugh. 

Alexander checks the time, sees that the party technically started twenty minutes ago, and takes a deep breath. Whether Thomas wants him or not, Alexander is going to have a good time tonight. Even if Thomas completely avoids him, even if he pretends like Alexander doesn’t even exist, he is still going to enjoy himself. 

He takes the stairs slow, hand brushing against the handrail as he takes measured steps. 

When his last foot hits the ground, Alexander sucks in a deep breath. The house has been transformed since that morning. It’s beautiful, fairy lights hanging from the trim, soft Christmas music blowing through the room, and fake snow brushing on the ground. 

He takes a few steps into the main room, walking between the crowds of people that linger there. When he steps into the living room, it's almost like he’s in a completely different wing of the house. It had seemed big before, but now it seems even bigger. The furniture has been moved from the room, replaced by a couple tables and chairs, but the majority of the room seems to be made into a makeshift dance floor. 

He feels something brush against his face, and looks up to see fake snow falling down from the fan above. 

“Hi there,” A voice says beside him, and Alexander’s heart stops. 

He turns and his eyes find Thomas’s. He looks as charming as always, dressed in a navy blue tux and a white bowtie. Patsy is in his arms, wearing a white dress with navy trim. They look beautiful, like the perfect mini family, and Alex can’t help but smile at them. 

Thomas puts Patsy down and she runs into Alexander’s leg, wrapping her tiny arms around him. 

“Merry Chris-mass Eve, Alex!” She says, her voice flooded with excitement. 

“Merry Christmas Eve, love.” Alexander says in response, bending down to return her hug. Her arms wrap around his neck hugging hard, and when she pulls away she’s grinning. 

“ _Ma puce_ , I think Martha is trying to get your attention,” Thomas says and Patsy looks up at Martha - who is waving her over - and then sprints to join her, leaving Alexander alone with Thomas. 

“You look good, Alexander.” Thomas says after a moment, his voice dripping in genuinity. 

“You do too,” He responds with a small smile, “But I shouldn’t be surprised. You always do.”

Thomas’s expression looks almost bittersweet as he holds out his hand, “Dance with me?”

And Alexander can’t say no. 

Thomas pulls him onto the dance floor, much like he had last night, as some sad Christmas song plays over the speakers. 

He lets Thomas’s hands rest on his hips and wraps his own around the man’s neck. It’s a soft sway, beautiful and content, and Alexander leans up just a little farther to let his chin rest on Thomas’s shoulder. He can see Martha’s grin, and she shoots him a thumbs up. Patsy’s expression is almost confused, and she looks at them before turning to Martha and muttering something Alexander can’t hear. 

“I’ve missed you.” Thomas whispers, and his voice is soft in Alexander’s ear. 

He clings harder to Thomas’s body, not wanting to give up an inch of close proximity, and sighs. “I missed you too. Probably more than I should have.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too, Thomas. Me too.”

As the night progresses, Alexander is somewhat swept off his feet. Thomas is a perfect gentleman, his laugh charming as he danced with Alexander song after song. It was nice, Thomas so close and open with him, and it's the reminder of how good they used to be together. 

It’s sometime later, when they’re surrounded by other couples on the dance floor, that Thomas mutters something into his ear. It makes him laugh, stupidly so, and when he pulls back to look into Thomas’s eyes, they are shining and beautiful, full of so much something that Alexander feels overwhelmed. 

So he does the only thing he can think of, and leans forward. He hesitates, just before their lips meet - giving Thomas an out if he wants it. If Alexander had been mistaken. 

But then Thomas leans the rest of the way, his lips slotting with Alexander’s in a way that feels new, but all the same. 

He remembers the way they fit together so well before, and this is that times a million.    
  
Thomas’s lips are soft, pushing back against Alexander’s in a way that makes his hands clench tight on the fabric of Thomas’s tux. 

Alexander pulls away first, looking up at the way Thomas’s eyes sparkle in the dark surrounding them, and he can do nothing but smile. 

“Papa!” Patsy’s voice interrupts them and Alexander turns too fast to look at her. She waves Thomas over with her hands and Thomas turns back to Alexander. 

“We’ll talk soon, I promise.”

“Okay, go be with her.”

He watches Thomas walk away, trying his best to not look at the way his pants cling to his ass. Okay, well he does look but he tries to do it subtly. 

The party winds down around eleven that night, and Alexander’s in the middle of a conversation with Dolley Madison when his phone starts vibrating in his pocket. He takes one look at the caller ID before excusing himself to the library. 

He doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him, just swipes his finger across the screen and holds it up to his ear. 

“Kitty,” He greets his ex-girlfriend, purposely keeping his voice even. 

“Alexander, hey.”

“Why are you calling?”

He sits down on the couch, listens to her sigh softly into the phone. 

“I wanted to wish you Merry Christmas. Even though I’m not in love with you anymore doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

“I know Kat. I still care about you too, even if things were messy. And I hope you have a good Christmas.”

“Same to you, Alexander. I don’t like the way we left things. Maybe, if you wanted, we could get coffee sometime? If you’re free.”

Alexander knows she isn’t trying to get back with him, but rather trying to mend this bridge. They had been friends before they even started dating, and she isn’t the type to just throw someone out because she didn’t love them anymore. She had a lot in common with Eliza like that. 

“I’m in Virginia at the moment, but we could talk when I get back?”

Her voice sounds a little less sad when she responds, “I’d love that. Merry Christmas Alexander.”

“Merry Christmas, Kate. I’ll let you know when I’m back.”

He hangs up before she can say anything else, taking a deep breath as he slides his phone back into his pocket. 

As he turns towards the door, he stops sharp.

There, just inside the doorway, is Thomas. He’s not looking at Alexander, but he can still see the hurt, betrayal in his eyes. 

“Thomas-”

“No,” The man interrupts him, “You can’t do this to me, not again. You can’t come here and make me feel things again, you can’t just kiss me like I mean something to you, and then go back to your ex. I won’t let you swoop in and ruin my life again.”

“Thomas, please, it isn’t like-”

“I don’t think there’s anything else to say.” Thomas’s voice is emotionless, bored even, and it feels like a knife to the chest. 

“Please-”

Thomas turns on his heels, leaving the room before Alexander can even get the chance to explain that it really isn’t like he thinks. 

He waits two seconds. Two seconds for his legs to catch up with his brain, and then he’s walking forward, desperate to find Thomas and make this right. 

Because, fuck, he’s in love with him.


	8. Maybe, just maybe, this was where he was meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks, that's a wrap. 
> 
> A huge thank you to everyone that's kudos, commented, and read this mess of words. Your encouragement is the only thing that kept me motivated to write, when my body wanted nothing more than to lay in bed and do nothing. I could not have finished this without you. 
> 
> Also an enormous thank you to tinywhim for being the greatest person alive and cheering me on, and helping my monolingual ass with French translations. I adore you!
> 
> Happy Holidays everyone!
> 
> Without further ado,,

The second his brain comes back online, Alexander’s feet continue forward. He pushes open the still swinging door to the library. He doesn’t know where Thomas could have gone, where he would have gone, or where to start looking. He thinks if he were in Thomas’s position, having overheard something that sounded like him getting back with his ex, he’d look for Patsy. 

She was an angel, a smiling beacon of what Thomas had done right with his life, and Alexander thinks that Thomas would seek her out. He stumbles down the hallway, maneuvering between the crowd of people that still linger in the hallway, and it seems like there are more people here than there were before. 

Or maybe it’s just Alexander’s panic making it seem like that. 

He rounds the corner in the living room, sees Patsy in Martha’s arms and his eyes look around - desperate to find Thomas. He sees no one even close to his description and his heart is racing too hard in his chest. 

Alexander knows Thomas, knows him even after all these years, and if he doesn’t find him and explain the truth soon, then Thomas is going to talk himself out of even trying to pursue anything between them. He’ll get spooked, and hightail it like the night they fought six years ago. Like the night Thomas stormed out, and Alexander simply packed his bags and left. 

He approaches Patsy and Martha, and Matha’s expression is enough to convince him that his panic must be obvious. 

“Alex, what’s wrong?” Martha asks, concern touching her normally polished tone. 

“Where’s Thomas?” His words come out desperate and breathless, and he runs his fingers through the length of his hair, trying and failing to keep his shit together. 

One of them needs to keep themselves together, and he knows Thomas well enough that he doesn’t think he’s capable of it at the moment. Which means the burden falls to Alexander. 

Martha shakes her head, “I don’t know. Patsy, do you know where your Papa is?”

Patsy’s grinning, smile bright and lovely as always, and it calms a little of the nerves running through his blood. 

“Papa at gas-bo."

Alexander’s eyes scrunch together. “What’s that mean, sweetheart?”

Martha, thankfully, speaks Patsy almost as well as Thomas. “She means he’s at the gazebo. It’s just out the front doors on the right.”

He shoots her a thankful look, giving Patsy a soft pat on the arm, before he turns and - almost sprints - to the door. He opens it, the chilly Virginian air settling around his body and he glances around in the dark. 

The gazebo is decorated, garland and lights streaming across it, and then he sees movement in the darkness.

_ Thomas.  _

He approaches slowly as if walking too fast might scare Thomas off, and being completely honest it might. When he finally gets to the edge where the grass meets the wooden steps, he takes a breath. 

Thomas is standing there, facing away from Alexander and looking at the woods that ventures for acres. His shoulders are slumped, the curve of them almost unfamiliar, and it hurts more than it should. 

“Thomas,”

The man turns around and Alexander can see the sigh that leaves his lips, turning into white steam and whipping around him in the cold breeze. 

“Can’t you just let me be?” Thomas’s voice greets him, and it’s lost the razorsharp quality it held earlier, and is replaced by defeated indifference. 

“Will you please tell me what’s going on? Why you literally ran from me?” Alexander responds, voice desperate as he pleads with him. 

Thomas is quiet for a long time, and it makes Alexander think he isn’t going to say anything. It weighs heavy in his chest, something so beautiful and bright ripped away from him at the last moment. 

After what seems like ages, he hears a quiet whisper into the air, “I’m still in love with you.”

Alexander had a suspicion that it might be true, that his feelings might have been reciprocated, but hearing them spoken out loud makes his heart race just a little faster. 

“Do you truly mean that?”

“Of course I mean it,” Thomas’s words are instantaneous, “I’ve known since I first saw you in the kitchen with Patsy, but that kiss tonight only confirmed it. That kiss meant something to me, Alexander, but I can’t do this again. I can’t let myself love you, I can’t let Patsy love you, just to have you rip it all away from us again. I loved you so much before, Alex, more than anyone I’ve ever known, and you left me there because you didn’t want to have a conversation. You didn’t want to communicate with me. It was never about Virginia versus New York, it was about how you couldn’t tell me what you wanted.”

“You made it seem like I had to choose.” Alexander’s voice is soft, a contradiction to the words - the memory - that plays in his head. 

Screaming, cursing, slamming doors. 

“But things are different now. Monticello is Patsy’s home, Virginia is her home, and we can’t leave.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to, Thomas. I don’t love Kitty, I don’t love New York, and I haven’t loved either in a really long time. But I do love you. I always have, and I don’t think they’ll be a single day - for the rest of my life - that I won’t. And I know if I leave here now, without telling you how I feel, I’ll regret it a hundred lifetimes over.” Alexander says as he takes a step forward, just wanting to be closer to him, “I miss you, Thomas. I want to try again, I want to be us again, if you’ll let me. And I’m not saying it will be easy, or that it’ll be perfect, but I want to try.”

Thomas’s hesitancy is evident in the furrow of his brow, but he hasn’t said no. Alex takes that as the sign he needs to step even closer, until he’s standing right in front of the other man, and he reaches down to interlock their fingers together. Thomas’s hand is warm against his own, and it feels perfect. It feels like they were meant to be together. 

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we were both here this Christmas, Thomas. Things will be different this time, I promise. Open communication, open love, if you’ll just let me try.”

Thomas’s hand squeezes in his own and the man lets out a sort of bewildered laugh. When Alex looks up and into his eyes, they are vulnerable, shining, and full of uninhibited love. 

“Okay,” Thomas says after a moment, “Okay we can try again.”

“Thank Go-”

“But I swear, Alexander,” He interupts, “If you break my heart again, I will not be as forgiving when I write about this in my sequel.”

It takes him a second, and once Thomas’s words finally register, Alex can’t help the small laugh that forces itself from his throat. He doesn’t bother to reply, not with Thomas so close, and simply leans up to connect their lips. 

This kiss is a little more heated than their previous one. Thomas’s mouth is warm and inviting, his tongue pushing out just a little to run against Alex’s lips, and his breath catches in his throat. Thomas’s hand comes up to cradle his jaw, fingers soft and warm and the gesture intimate. 

When he pulls away, he finds Thomas’s gaze still on him. 

“I love you.” Alexander says, just because he can. 

Thomas smiles, that same smile that Alex has dreamed about for years, “I love you too.”

When they return to the party a few minutes later, fingers still interlocked, Patsy is the first to find them. 

She runs up, dress swishing around her knees, but stops short. Her expression turns confused as she looks at their interlocked hands. Then, as if coming to a delightful conclusion, she beams. It’s the brightest smile Alexander has ever seen on her, and it reminds him of Thomas’s. 

“Alex staying?”

Thomas raises an eyebrow, directing it in Alexander’s direction. The fact that Thomas didn’t answer for him is noted, and Alex wonders if there is still some doubt in Thomas’s beautiful brain. Well, he'll gladly clear up any lingering doubt.

He squats down so he’s eye level with her and offers her a smile, “Yeah, _ma choupette,_ I am.”

Patsy squeals, her arms flying out to wrap around Alexander’s neck as she pulls him into a too tight hug. He looks up at Thomas from over her shoulder, and sees the soft, genuine, smile on his lips. 

Maybe whatever God he thought was torturing him, wasn’t. Maybe the universe has been looking out for him this whole time. Yeah, he thinks as he looks at Thomas’s smile and feels Patsy’s giggle against his shoulder, maybe they had a plan after all.

Maybe, just maybe, this was where he was meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hi on my Tumblr: writtenrevolution


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